AN: Thank you for all the support! It is deeply appreciated!
"So let me get this straight," the Creator began from her golden throne. "You bet Theresa that if another human and spirit fused, she would get a bottle of tequila."
"Technically it was if an angel and a mortal fused…" Metatron began.
"No, it was if a spirit and a mortal fused, and you know it," Theresa argued.
"I think it was if a spirit and a mortal fused," the Redeemer mused.
"Spirit sounds right," the Paraclete chimed in.
Metatron scowled Sometimes it was annoying to have an all-knowing boss.
"I don't know who I'm more disappointed with," the Creator frowned as she gazed upon the spirits before her. "You or Theresa."
Theresa gave her a sheepish grin while Metatron glanced at the graying cloud underneath him. Where and how severe would the upcoming storm be?
"I think I'm more disappointed in Metatron," The Redeemer sat on a crystal throne to the right of the Creator.
"Why?" He looked up.
"Because you were waxing rhapsodically about tequila," the Creator replied.
"Waxing rhapsodically is a bit of an exaggeration," Metatron drawled.
"Yes, he did mention it had an aftertaste of vomit," Theresa offered. "That should've deterred me, but I wouldn't listen."
"How would he know what vomit tasted like?" Paraclete asked. He was perched between the thrones on a silver bar, enjoying the occasional stroke from the other two members of the Trinity.
"Uh," Theresa glanced at Metatron, a question in her eyes.
"Some homeless man told me about it once," Metatron admitted. "I assumed from what you've mentioned that vomit tasted bad."
"It's the worst."
"See, I did say it was bad! I tried to steer her away from it."
"No, at one point you told her the aftertaste was fine, but when it became clear you could lose the bet, you backtracked knowing we would find out," the Redeemer began with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
Metatron shifted his eyes from the Trinity towards the cloud below.
"I think we should put a ban on gambling," the Paraclete offered.
"No," the Creator shook her head. "Then we would have to explain away that whole Job thing and why it wasn't unethical."
"We don't need the headache of you maybe being wrong about something with theology being what it is," Metatron answered.
"Agreed," the Redeemer replied, his previous amusement evaporated.
"We would still discourage you from engaging in gambling though," Paraclete replied.
"Metatron!"
The archangel spun around. Theresa kept her eyes on the Trinity, noting their lack of shock. She supposed an all-knowing would know whether or not someone was coming. Still, it wouldn't kill them to give everyone else a heads up.
"You have a lot of nerve!" An inflamed saint stormed towards them.
"Hello Dismas," the archangel smirked. "I was wondering when you would appear."
"Don't play coy with me!" Dismas snapped. "Not after what you did!"
Metatron's wing twitched.
"Did you visit Sirius and Severus just to provoke me?" Dismas poked his finger onto the archangel's chest.
"Why would he want to provoke you?" Theresa asked.
"Yes," Metatron replied. "I have nothing against you. There is no reason whatsoever to provoke you into doing anything."
"Then why are you interfering with the Pilot Purgatory Program?"
"How is he interfering?" Theresa stared at Metatron. After a moment her glow intensified. She lowered her voice, "You didn't…"
"I did." He lowered his wings.
She glared at him.
"What? Someone needed to say something. I was only trying to explain to them the consequences of their actions," Metatron argued.
"I told you to leave those young lovers alone!" She snapped.
The Redeemer stifled a chuckle. This was much more entertaining than the interrogation he had considered.
"Why did you feel the need to say anything?" Theresa asked. "They were doing just fine without you!"
"Just fine? They were interfering with the cosmic order," Metatron turned a dull red. "Did you expect me to sit and do nothing."
"Yes!" Dismas and Theresa exclaimed in unison.
"Unless the Trinity sent you, you had no right to speak with either of them," Dismas retorted.
"We certainly would have liked to have been informed of any visits you planned to make to Purgatory."
All eyes fell on the three thrones.
"It seems as if you have been busy," the Creator continued.
"Perhaps your case load is too light," the Redeemer offered.
"Or being 'the voice of God' is going to your head again," the Paraclete ruffled its feathers.
"Please understand." Metatron folded his hands. "I was not trying to defy you or speak out of turn. When I saw a mortal and a spirit fuse three nights ago I became alarmed. Something needed to be said. Since Dismas wasn't going to interfere, I decided to do it for him."
"I was running the program just fine until you came barging in!"
"While I appreciate your zeal, that is our realm, not yours." The Creator's tone came off more as a warning.
"The program is Dismas' and Peter's to run," the Redeemer looked at the good thief and grinned. "They are doing a fine job too."
Dismas' glow returned to its usual hue.
"I do not deny that Dismas and Peter are doing the best they can, but they seem to be ignoring basic facts," Metatron pointed to the ground. "Namely that mortals and spirits are in separate realms for a reason. A spirit fusing with a mortal should be done after careful consideration, not because of pleasure."
"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" A still red Theresa grumbled. "It's not like you've never had contact with a mortal or, you know, stabbed her!"
"Our case was different." He looked at her. "I was ordered to visit you. I did not come of my own volition."
"Oh so now you were forced to see me!"
"Forced is a strong word." Metatron turned white. "But I never would've thought to stab you until I had express permission from the Trinity."
"So the other visions were all Trinity ordered. You had no interest in seeing me on your own."
"Do not put words in my mouth. Even you can admit that obtaining permission for our first time was the only proper way for me to appear to you."
"Perhaps Severus should've gotten permission to fuse with Hermione." Dismas approached the Trinity. "Yet I know if his feelings for Hermione were not part of the plan you would have interfered or told Peter not to loan him the tuxedo."
"You are correct," the Paraclete replied. "We allowed it to happen for our own reasons."
"And I'm sure they are very good ones," Metatron returned to his usual hue. "Still, I am growing concerned about whether or not Hermione is thriving."
"With all due respect, you've been prosecuting cases, not monitoring Hermione," Dismas replied.
"Every once in a while I glance down at earth. This program is quite intriguing after all," Metatron began.
"I sense a but."
"I know emotional dependency when I see it. Hermione is becoming emotionally dependent on Severus."
"She's in love with him," Theresa argued. "People in love tend to be dependent upon each other."
"He is a spirit and she is a mortal." Metatron threw up his hands. "Surely I cannot be the only entity which sees a problem with this."
The Creator scratched Paraclete's chin as the Redeemer tapped his chair. Paraclete fluffed his wings.
"Hermione was meant to be loved. All humans are," Dismas answered.
"By a spirit?"
"Why not?" Theresa cut in with a dreamy look in her eyes "Love between a mortal and a spirit can be a beautiful thing, regardless of whether or not they can always be with each other or not."
Metatron's lips quirked upwards.
"Metatron has a point," the Creator cut in. "There are good reasons a mortal and a spirit should not get emotionally involved, especially given the former's inability to thing eternally."
"Yes, but this is a unique case," Dismas replied.
"How?" The Redeemer asked.
"We all knew this program was going to be complicated," Dismas answered. "We knew Severus and Hermione were yearning for love, and there was a chance they would find it with each other."
"And in a century or so when Hermione perishes they can share their love all they want. I will even throw them a Valentine's Day party, assuming they don't find a cloud and spend all of eternity fusing upon it," Metatron replied.
"That is quite enough," Paraclete interrupted.
They all returned their attention to the Trinity.
"Metatron has a point," the Redeemer began. "Neither Severus nor Hermione are meditating on eternal things, which is a component of true bliss."
"Still we are love," the Paraclete added. "Who are we to deny love?"
Dismas' eyes flickered in triumph.
"Yet love can take many different forms and be expressed differently given the circumstance," the Creator mused. "They don't need to be in the same physical location to experience love."
"True." Dismas' glow dimmed.
"Completion of the program should be them learning the lessons which prevented them from partaking in the beatific vision, not be in a relationship which over time may be impossible to maintain," the Redeemer added.
"Could this be truly too difficult to maintain?" Theresa asked. "They love each other. Can't they make that work?"
"Severus can only be in Hermione's house, and nobody but her can see him. This will cause problems sooner than you expect."
"How soon?" Dismas squeaked.
"The times and the seasons are not for you to know," the Paraclete replied. "It is only your job to prepare him for the possibility that this could begin causing problems for both him and Hermione."
"I can relay the message, but what of the program? Are Sirius and Severus at risk for returning to Purgatory?"
The Trinity remained silent.
"I plead for you to be lenient with them and take their emotions into account," Dismas continued. "They have grown so much over the last few months. Their progress is quite impressive."
"It is," the Creator admitted.
"Whatever happens, please keep the complexity of their mission and their personal growth into account."
The Trinity's expressions softened.
"I'm sorry, but I think you are forgetting why they are there in the first place," Metatron cut in. "I know Severus is remorseful, and Sirius seems to at least know enough to be scared, but the dog at least is a serious sinner. One is not sentence to a millennium Purgatory because they once stole a candy bar after all."
"They are repenting sinners," Dismas argued.
"Severus is defying the natural order and Sirius is encouraging it."
"They are bringing love into the world!"
"Love has nothing to do with this!"
"They are achieving redemption!"
"They are not going to bring back Barabbas and Gestas!"
Dismas was a stark white.
"This isn't about Sirius and Severus and we all know it," Metatron continued. "You need this program to work because you can't save the two people you desperately wished you could save from damnation. It doesn't matter how hurt Hermione is in the long run provided you can help two souls into heaven. If you couldn't save Barabbas and Gestas, then you can save them!"
Dismas' glow dulled.
"Start thinking rationally," Metatron continued. "This whole program could be failing all because you are too blinded by your loyalty to your compatriots to admit what is occurring, namely the natural order is being disrupted so a mortal can become dependent upon a spirit who's supposed to be working his way to heaven. Severus and Sirius are not Gestas and Barabbas, and should not be confused with them."
The former thief bowed his head.
"That's a low blow!"
Everyone's attention was on Theresa.
"You can say you disagree with Dismas' methods, and you can say what we shared on earth was nothing to you, but you do not have the right to attack him like that! Not after everything he's done for those souls in hell!"
"I was only trying to be realistic," Metatron argued.
"You can't understand how mortals love, so you're just going to criticize it and pretend our feelings are nothing! If you can't be right then you'll just attack anyone who disagrees with you! You-you bastardo!'
"Do not drag our situation into this! It's clouding your vision!"
"Oh no, I think I see everything clearly. After almost half a millennium, I think I understand you perfectly! You rompecorazones!"
Before Metatron could say anything, she stormed away.
"It looks like you're going to need to do some repentance of your own," the Redeemer noted.
Metatron stared at the place the nun had been.
The Trinity faced Dismas.
"Everything you've said is duly noted, Dismas," the Paraclete began. "Still, Severus needs a sustainable relationship with Hermione."
"Understood," Dismas answered.
"Ask him to search his heart and determine if Hermione can thrive as things are. Once he determines the answer to that, we will know if the program was successful," the Creator replied.
"Yes."
"In the meantime," the Redeemer's eyes were glistening. "You are doing a stellar job helping them. You should be proud of yourself and the work you've accomplished not only with Sirius and Severus, but all the Purgatory souls you've helped comfort, as well as the damned souls you released."
"Thank you." Dismas' glow was a bright yellow.
"As for you, Metatron," the Paraclete began in a harsher voice.
The archangel focused upon them.
"You have spoken out of turn, interfered with matters you had no business interfering in, incited a mortal to indulge in something most consider a vice, and have unleashed an infuriated Theresa upon all of heaven," the Creator began.
"These are serious crimes indeed,": the Redeemer replied.
"Please," Metatron fell to his knees. "I meant no ill intent. I thought I was defending you."
"We know," Paraclete answered. "You may be overzealous and make ill-advised bets, but nobody could deny your loyalty to us."
Metatron relaxed.
"That being said," the Creator leaned back in her golden throne. "You need to face the consequences of your actions."
Metatron held his wings close to his body.
"We have decided you are going to honor your bet," the Redeemer continued. "You are going to earth to retrieve an unopened bottle of tequila."
"I can do that," Metatron answered.
"With no money," Paraclete chimed in.
Metatron was a light blue. He knew better than to ask for advice on how to perform that task.
"You must also find an unused cup," the Creator replied. "If even one person has drunk from it, then we will reject it."
"Yes."
"Also," the Redeemer continued. "You will have the same caseload. I trust this task will not interfere with your ability to prosecute cases effectively."
"No, it won't," Metatron replied.
"We are glad to hear it." Paraclete smoothed his wings.
Metatron began to walk away.
"Also."
He stopped.
"I would start reevaluating the concept of a soulmate," the Creator's lips curled up.
"We have more free time than you believe," the Redeemer answered. "Being timeless gives you plenty of time to contemplate these things, if you know what we mean."
His eyes grew.
"You may both go," Paraclete concluded.
With that, the saint and archangel disappeared.